


On a Pedestal

by morrezela



Series: In Hiding [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragons, M/M, Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is dating a dragon who used to be his boss. It is the holiday season, so he brings his boyfriend a pre-Christmas gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Pedestal

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Angst, dragon fic, evil!Misha.
> 
> This is a sequel to In Hiding and In Trouble.
> 
> All mistakes that you find are my own.

“You are a grade A idiot,” Misha Collins informs Jared as he drops down into the chair next to him.

“That’s the director’s chair,” Jared informs him without looking up from his script. He isn’t going to talk to Misha if he can help it. The man almost killed him. That is more than enough reason to not like a guy. Jared just hates the fact that the fans of his show love Misha’s character and keep getting him written back in.

“You know that you shouldn’t keep seeing Jensen. It’s just cruel,” Misha continues as if he is incapable of catching Jared’s ‘go the fuck away’ vibe.

Jared clenches his teeth to keep from replying. If he ignores Misha, Misha will go away.

“You’re not going to ever want him, not like he is hoping you’ll want him. It’s for the best if you breakup now.”

Jared flips the page on his script and starts studying somebody else’s scene.

“Do you even know what it is to steal a dragon’s heart? What that means? I can assure you that you’re not capable of it, not capable of the sacrifice or what would be required of you. Now Jensen, I don’t care much for him. He and his golden scaled hide are relics of an old belief system long since gone. He drags us dragons down with his antiquated ways of thinking.”

“Copper,” Jared blurts out instinctively. Because his ex-boss, ex-fuck buddy, sort-of-boyfriend is very particular about his scale color.

“He speaks!” Misha mocks. “Tell me, has your dear Jensen had you rub his belly yet? The base of his tail? His snout? Do you…”

So Jared might’ve kicked the legs out from under the director’s chair that Misha was sitting in. He is clumsy sometimes, okay? Accidents happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is this?” Jared asks as he observes the new Christmas tree that Jensen has put up on his 1950’s kitchen table.

Jensen cocks his head and looks at Jared. It is the worried look he still gets on occasion that says he doesn’t quite believe the doctors. Maybe Jared has lingering concussion problems, and maybe Jensen should fly in fifteen different specialists to make absolutely sure that Jared is in the best of the best of care.

Jared rolls his eyes back at him. “I know it’s a tree, dumbass.”

Jensen has the good graces to look abashed. “I picked it up on the way home today,” he mumbles.

“Where?”

Jensen shrugs and won’t meet Jared’s eyes, which means that he either spent way too much money on bribing the previous owner to part with it or he pulled it out of a dumpster. Given the fact that the tree is practically dripping with sparkling jewels, it could go either way. It is either a completely tacky display of rhinestone excess or…

“Don’t touch that!” Jensen exclaims as Jared’s hand reaches out towards one of the dangling pears.

Real then.

“Do I want to know how much you spent on that?” Jared asks as he withdraws his hand.

Jensen shrugs. “Not too much. The jeweler’s wife caught him fucking the salesclerk against the emerald display case. The wife threw the poor tree at them. I’m still fixing the partridge.”

“I’m kind of surprised the crystals didn’t break,” Jared muses as he leans in to look more closely at the tree. He can see where Jensen has carefully rewired some of the branches and can make out some soldering points that look new. If the tree was moving fast enough to snap some of the metal, it had to have been moving with enough velocity to at least chip some of the crystals adorning it.

“Yeah,” Jensen mumbles, “right.”

Jared freezes and turns to look at his boyfriend. “Jensen, these are crystals, right?”

Jensen bites his lip and concentrates very hard on the bejeweled bird in his hand. Jared doesn’t think that the tail that he is reattaching to it requires that much attention.

“What shop were you even in?” Jared asks as his eyes swing back to the tacky and apparently expensive tree.

“Just a jewelry shop,” Jensen avoids the question with all the delicacy of a moose.

“Did it happen to be one of those shops without storefront windows where you have to be on a list and make an appointment to get into?” Jared asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jensen scoffs. “I’m sure the main store has a window.”

“That tree cost you more than my entire yearly salary used to, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Jensen nods his head vigorously.

And, really, Jared shouldn’t care so much about Jensen’s expenditures. Jensen has a good job with good connections, but that hasn’t kept Hollywood millionaires from going broke before. And Jensen’s impulse control when it comes to ‘treasure’ is atrocious.

“Jensen,” Jared takes a breath to calm his nerves, “are you sure that you can afford something of this size made entirely out of precious gemstones?”

Jensen sighs like he just knew Jared was going to ask that question. “Jared,” he says resignation instead of anger in his voice, “I’m a dragon.”

“I know that,” Jared reminds him.

“My mother is a dragon, my grandmother before her, and my great-grandfather before her.”

While Jared hadn’t known Jensen’s exact genealogy before, it stands to reason that a dragon isn’t born to non-dragon parents. Otherwise there would have been television exposes on the phenomenon, or at least a few National Enquirer articles.

“I’m just worried,” Jared explains himself. “I know that you have a, a biological instinct to collect or something. I do, but…”

“I come from a very, very long line of dragons, Jared,” Jensen interrupts him.

“Which is cool, but I’m just saying that…”

“Look, I’m the human equivalent of filthy fucking rich, okay? I have to use random name generators on baby name websites because I’m practically underwriting several banks around the globe. Jensen Ackles isn’t on every account I own. You don’t want to know how much income tax I actually pay every year. I don’t want to know that. It’s depressing.”

Jared doesn’t want to comprehend that amount of money, so he doesn’t. He just lets his mind wander to how depressed Jensen always gets around tax time. “Well, at least you always get refunds?” he offers.

“Interest free refunds,” Jensen grumbles. “Stupid accountants can never get the number just right.”

No good can come from continuing that line of conversation, so Jared decides to bring up the subject that he originally came over about. “Right, okay, so I know it isn’t Christmas yet,” he starts in nervously.

“You brought me my gift? Early?” Jensen’s eyes are instantly raking over Jared’s form. Normally that would be exciting, but the only lust in his eyes is for presents. His freckles are glowing, and Jared has learned that is a sign of Jensen’s dragon wanting to come out and play.

“Just a token of my affection,” Jared lies through his teeth. He bought the stupid things as an excuse to come over. Scratch that, he bought it as a booty call present. Jensen has made it more than clear that Jared is welcome to come stumbling through his mansion whenever he feels like it, gift or no.

Jensen sniffs and then breaks out into a smile. “You brought me chocolate covered coffee beans from that Beantastica place.”

“Killjoy,” Jared fakes grumbles as he hands the festive looking bag over. He knows full well that Jensen is going to eat the whole bag. And when Jensen consumes that much chocolate and caffeine in one sitting, he gets amorous.

It is step one of Jared’s foolproof plan.

Step two of Jared’s plan is significantly harder to pull off. For one thing, Jared has to drag his exhausted body out of Jensen’s sinfully decadent bed. That is a difficult enough feat without a snoozing and fucked out Jensen trying to use him as a body pillow. Dragons don’t really have a concept of things being too hot. As far as Jensen is concerned, sleeping on top of each other is love in its purest form.

Thankfully, Jensen is coming down off his sugar rush as well as being sexually sated. He growls when his pillow moves, but jealously snuggles into Jared’s actual pillow and goes right back to snoring when Jared leaves.

Step three is harder than step two, mostly because Jared is not a house burglar. Oh, he knows where Jensen’s house safes are, but he doesn’t know the combinations to them. Not that they would help, because he is damn certain what he is looking for isn’t in them. Nor is it in the ‘dungeon’ as Jensen fondly refers to his basement bunker.

The attic also does not have what Jared is searching for, nor does the pool house, the pool itself, the outdoor hot tub, the entire east wing or the garage. Jared’s spent a lot of time looking, but he thinks he has finally figured out where the damned thing is hidden.

Three hours later, Jared is doubting his detective skills. He is about to give up when he trips over one of Jensen’s Persian throw rugs and slams into an antique grandfather clock. The stupid thing starts chiming, and Jared worries for a second that he has given himself another concussion.

But when he turns around, there is an honest to god pedestal rising out of the floor. It is holding what might be the most atrocious looking blob of metal that Jared has ever seen, but it is the only thing in the whole damned place besides Jensen that is copper. Not even the cookware in the kitchen is copper. Maybe there are pennies, but Jared hasn’t found them.

None of which matters because the lump of green metal resting atop the very, very ostentatious stand looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages. There is barely a hint of true copper coloring visible. It is green and dusty and looks like it will be tacky to the touch.

Jared grabs hold of it anyway. Then he proceeds to freak out because the instant that he has it in his hands, it disappears. Thick bands of shiny, clean copper bracelets flash into existence on his wrists, and he can feel a matching band around the base of his throat. His entire body tingles, and his heart starts pounding like he’s been running a marathon.

Then again, Jared is going to give the mysterious lump of copper a pass on the last one. The whole heart beating thing could just be his internal terror acting up. The loud hiss that assaults his ears isn’t his imagination though. Jared doesn’t need to turn around to know that Jensen is behind him, but he does it anyway.

Jensen is in his dragon form, and he looks pissed. There are plumes of smoke rising from his nostrils, and his teeth are all bared. He looks at Jared and lets out an ungodly roar that rattles the pipe collection on display on the fireplace mantle.

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared says weakly.

Jensen growls at him before swiping a talon tipped paw in his direction. But instead of slicing Jared to shreds, he grabs the podium instead, snapping its marble column into hundreds of tiny chips with just one squeeze. He huffs once, then turns around and leaves.

“So you don’t want to talk about it?” Jared calls after him.

A loud roar reverberates through the mansion in answer.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Jared says to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When morning comes around, Jared finds Jensen in the kitchen making caramel rolls, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, waffles, four types of eggs, bacon, sausage and what he thinks might be gruel.

“Hey,” he says uncertainly.

Jensen grunts at him.

“Look, I get I may have made a mistake last night,” Jared tries again.

“You think?” Jensen snips.

A timer dings merrily, and Jensen reaches into the oven without a mitt on to bring out a tray of muffins.

“What’re you doing?” Jared asks as he eyes the spread.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Jared? I’m fucking nesting. It’s what happens when you, when you do what you did.”

“I thought you’d be happy about it!” Jared yells. It has been a very long night, and he spent the last few hours before sunrise sitting on what he thinks is a Victorian era fainting couch. It wasn’t comfortable.

“I,” Jensen corrects, “am ecstatic about it.”

“You don’t look ecstatic,” Jared points out.

“Well I am. I am so damned thrilled that I want to shout it from the rooftops. Then I remember that you haven’t the foggiest clue what you’ve actually done, so I feel horrible, mind rending guilt and sorrow.”

“You get that it was my decision, right?”

Jensen sighs and opens the oven again to slide in a pan of what Jared thinks is going to become bread. “You realize that you just flushed your career down the toilet, right? I won’t be able to… Actors kiss other people. They fake having sex with other people. They do a lot of things to make film enjoyable to the masses, and I support that. But I’m a dragon, Jared. I can’t share you like that. I know it’s only pretend, but I literally will not be able to handle that.”

“Oh,” Jared mumbles.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’”

“But, you’re happy right? You didn’t want me to not do it?” Jared asks.

“Despite what some dragons will tell you, there is an escape clause for stealing a dragon’s heart,” Jensen tells him.

“Okay, so if you’re upset with me…”

“I don’t really want to kill you,” Jensen tells him.

“That isn’t much of an escape clause,” Jared says as he sits down on one of the kitchen stools and starts buttering one of the caramel rolls. He might as well eat as long as the food is there.

“Magic of that power usually comes with high prices,” Jensen informs him. “Something so precious as a dragon’s heart is extremely powerful.”

“For something so important, your ‘heart’ was all, umm, dusty and green and stuff,” Jared says as he stuffs his face.

“I wanted to deter house thieves if they came across it,” Jensen tells him. “Copper is a valuable metal on the open market these days. With the security protocols off, I felt I had to do something.”

“Wait, the security protocols were off?”

“You thought that I just left my heart out on a hidden, revolving marble pedestal for any random person to steal?” Jensen sounds insulted.

“I guess?” Jared says as he steals a pile of bacon off a nearby tray.

“Don’t be silly, Jared. I had to do something to make it at least accessible to you. I had just hoped that I might be able to explain a few things to you first. Like the not kissing other people thing.”

“Not even my grandma?” Jared asks.

Jensen twitches. “Is it incestuous?”

“What? No! Gross!” Jared sputters.

“Then you should be fine. We normally can control our impulses when it comes to direct familial relations. Just – no adopted relatives and no cousins or any relation farther away than that. Umm, hugging is also best done in small quantities.”

Jared decides not to point out how difficult that is going to be for him. Jensen already knows. Plus, Jared isn’t exactly keen on seeing Jensen continue to sulk and be grumpy.

“So why was it so unattractive? I mean, if I was going to make a mystical representation of my heart, I’d go for something more artistic,” Jared tries to change the subject.

Jensen stops right in the middle of flipping a piece of French toast. His spatula is in midair, holding a half crisp, half soggy piece of bread aloft. “It’s my heart, Jared,” he says very slowly.

“Yeah, I know,” Jared says. “Wait, like, your heart-heart?”

Jensen snorts and flips the bread down to finish cooking.

“But you have a pulse!” Jared argues.

“I’m not sure you’re grasping the mystical element to all of this. I shapeshift into a normal sized human. My heart bestowed you with the adornments of my love. Why are you fixating on my circulatory system?”

“But, did you like, pull it from your chest or something?”

To Jared’s horror, Jensen nods with something akin to pride, “On the evening of the day that I reached my majority. It hurt. A lot.”

The bacon on Jared’s plate isn’t quite so appetizing anymore.

“Hey, magic, remember?” Jensen tells him. “Just don’t think about it. Or I could make mimosas. Those are good with breakfast.”

“I’m not drinking at six-thirty in the morning,” Jared tells him.

Jensen frowns and pulls a dusty looking bottle out from one of the cupboards. He pours the amber liquid inside of it into a glass, takes a look at Jared, pours another shot into the glass.

“What is that?” Jared asks. 

“Scotch. Macallan. Don’t ask how much it cost,” Jensen says as he slides the glass over to Jared along with a gigantic omelet. “And I love you,” he adds, “just in case me not biting your head off last night wasn’t clear.”

Jared smiles at the words and takes a swig of his drink. It mixes with the left over caramel and bacon flavors in his mouth and burns on the way down. When he places his glass on the kitchen island, Jensen uncorks the bottle and pours another shot in.

“The last time I got you drunk,” Jensen says before Jared can protest, “I stole your memories away from you. I think it’s only fitting that you’re not sober for the dragon information overload.”

“Fitting?” Jared asks.

“Okay, fine. It’ll be easier on both of us if you’re not sober for it. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

Scotch eggs are tasty. Scotch with eggs? Not so much. But Jared does as he is told anyway. Today is going to be a long day, but in his heart, he is ready for it. He purchased Jensen’s Christmas gift a long time ago, and he hasn’t once thought about returning that ring. He is committed, and that isn’t going to change.


End file.
